


Le Sang Partagé

by orphan_account



Series: In Endless Dance [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Cousin Incest, Family, Incest, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Louis' life changes forever is the day he thinks about kissing Albus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Sang Partagé

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flayu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Flayu).



> I wrote this in response to a question Flayu asked me. She wanted to know "when it all started"; when Louis first noticed he had romantic feelings for Albus. It got me thinking and so I decided to write this little story by way of response.
> 
> For you, dear Flayu! ❤

## Le Sang Partagé

"What are you doing here?" Albus asked without looking up from his sketchbook. He was deep in concentration: lip caught between his teeth, dark hair falling into his eyes, hand moving furiously across the page.

 

Louis closed the bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, placing his arms behind his back and drumming his fingertips against the wood. He narrowed his eyes at his cousin's huddled form. "How'd you know it was me, then?"

 

Albus shrugged and mumbled, "I always know when it's you. And you didn't answer my question."

 

"Oh." Louis crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Albus' mattress, watching the boy as he worked. "I don't know," he answered honestly. And he really didn't. Over the past few days, though, being here at the Potters had seemed infinitely preferable to Louis than being at home, locked inside the house with his crazy mother and sisters. Albus' parents were utterly relaxed in comparison to his own; the Potter house was always relatively quiet; and Albus—well, Albus was probably the only member of his extended family with whom he was able to have a decent conversation. It was rather odd, Louis thought, considering their difference in age.

 

"Is Aunt Fleur trying to get you to de-gnome the garden again?" Albus asked consideringly, still absorbed in his sketch.

 

"Yes," Louis replied, laughing, “among other chores." Albus knew his Aunt Fleur almost as well as Louis did. "I don't know why she bothers asking me to do it, though," he added thoughtfully. "She knows all she has to do is snap her fingers and Dad'll do it for her. I mean, I know she's ancient and all, but I'm pretty sure she's still got a bit of that Veela charm left in her. Dad seems to think so, anyway."

 

"Well, it's good to know you're as lazy as ever," Albus drawled, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

With an answering smirk, Louis leaned across the bed to see what Albus was working on, the ends of his gold hair brushing the page. "I can't see properly when you're doing that," Albus grumbled at him, though he didn't move his book away. "You're blocking all the light, Louis."

 

"Sorry," Louis replied, peering at the upside down sketch. "I'll get out of your hair in a moment, I just wanted to see what you were drawing today—is that my house?" It was, Louis realized. A perfect illustration of Shell Cottage during a thunderstorm—replete with heavy black clouds, lightning, and swaying grass and trees.

 

"Wow," Louis declared in a distant voice. He looked up at his cousin, who had coloured slightly—Louis knew he hated to be praised—and said, "You're really talented, Al. You know that, don't you?"

 

Albus rolled his eyes and slammed the book closed. "I'm not," he said. "And it's stupid; just something to do to pass the time..."

 

Louis made a face before something—his infamous defiant streak, most likely—caused him to snatch the sketchbook from Albus' grasp and hold it away from him. "It's _not_ stupid," he said firmly, with a stern look at Albus. "I love your drawings, Al. I don't ever want to hear you say that again."

 

"Alright, _Dad_ ," Albus growled with a cold glare at Louis. "Now give me back my bloody sketchbook."

 

"No."

 

"Louis!"

 

"Just let me have a look at it!"

 

"Ugh. Fine!"

 

Smugly satisfied, Louis slid over to the end of the bed and laid across it on his belly, spreading the book out in front of him. He began to turn the thick, gesso-ed pages, careful not to smudge any of the charcoal drawings. The first few pictures were lovely and skillful as expected—detailed sketches of Hogwarts castle; the Gryffindor Quidditch team during practice; the Potters' backyard garden, and even one of Harry and Ginny Potter sitting together on the living-room couch. Louis could feel Albus' eyes on him—watchful and anxious—and smiled. "See? Talent, Al. Pure talent. These are really great."

 

The drawings, however, began to deviate in theme as Louis reached the middle of the book. He was surprised, and maybe even a little unnerved, to see his own face used as a recurring motif—Louis, drawn in places he'd never been, poses he was certain he'd never struck. Louis, standing on a cliff's edge, with a huge set of angel's wings spanning out from his shoulders.

 

Albus, Louis realized, must have drawn most of these pictures of him from memory alone. The thought was oddly touching. When Louis turned the last page and closed the book, he looked at Albus, who was glaring at him expectantly.

 

"Are you done now?" Albus asked, his tone stiff. Louis nodded and handed him back the book.

 

Albus carelessly tossed it onto the carpet and leaned back against his wall of pillows. "I told you it was stupid," he muttered, examining his fingernails.

 

"Don't _say_ that," Louis demanded, sitting up. "It's not stupid at all. I love your drawings, Al. Even the ones of me."

 

Albus peered up at him. The expression on his face was one of subtle suspicion. "Really."

 

"Of course. But... Why me, though?" Louis asked, genuinely curious. "Why draw pictures of me for? Don't get me wrong, I love them, I just never thought I was all that interesting."

 

Albus rolled his eyes. "I hate it when you do that, Louis."

 

"Do what?" Louis pressed.

 

"Pretend you're ordinary when you're anything _but_. Isn't it obvious why I'd want to draw you? You're the least ugly person I know."

 

"Oh." Louis felt himself flush slightly and was instantly horrified by his own vanity. Clearing his throat, he joked, "Is that your way of telling me I'm handsome, Al? Well thank you very much."

 

Albus rolled his eyes again. "You _know_ you're handsome, Louis." He smiled a little. "Just don't let it go to your head though, yeah? We've got enough big-headed idiots in this family as it is."

 

Louis gave his cousin a playful nudge. "And so what if I do?"

 

"Well, the answer to that is simple," Albus smirked. "You'll end up just like your sister. Oh _Teddy_!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "Don't I look beautiful, Teddy? Tell me how _beautiful_ I look!"

 

Louis let out a loud laugh. "Oh come on now, she's not as bad as all that," he reminded Albus, slightly breathless from laughing. "I mean, I know she's a little bit vain and all, but she's better than she used to be; don't you think?"

 

Laughing, Albus shrugged and said, "I dunno about that. You just wait until they announce their engagement, Louis. Your house is going to be a total shitstorm. Can you just imagine your mother?"

 

"Right, that's it, then," Louis announced, flopping down so that he lay beside Albus on the pillows, "I'm moving in with you."

 

Albus laughed and shifted over a little to give Louis more room. "You should actually," he said in a cheerful voice. "Dad loves you; I'm sure he'd let you live here with us if you asked him."

 

"Ah, but I think my mother would be lost without me," Louis said with a sigh, and turned his head on the pillow so that he could look at Albus directly as they spoke.

 

Albus was staring up at the ceiling now, hands laced tightly over his stomach, chest rising and falling softly as he breathed. Watching him, Louis thought about all the ways in which Albus had changed; about how time was passing so quickly there seemed no way to stop it. Just yesterday, Louis thought, Albus had been a tiny child, clinging to his legs and staring up at him with huge green eyes. And now that same child was in his second year at Hogwarts, and while he was still very young, he was possessed of such a keen wit that he and Louis had grown to become more friends than cousins—often Louis felt like the only person who even _understood_ him was Albus.

 

"What do you think makes you and I so alike?" Louis murmured, thinking hard on this. "We're a little like magnets, don't you think?" He chuckled.

 

Albus gave a slight shrug and turned his head, so that he and Louis were face to face. "Blood calls to blood," he whispered. "Perhaps that's why."

 

Louis felt a shiver run along his spine. They were almost nose-to-nose now, and he could see every fleck of colour in Albus' luminous green eyes; the poreless white skin that was as unblemished as fresh cream. His eyes drifted lower, to Albus' lips—red like rose petals; probably as soft, too—and vaguely he wondered what those lips would feel like if he were to touch them with his own. He felt a sickening jolt of nervousness shoot through him.

 

Just now, he realised with dawning horror, he had actually entertained the thought of _kissing_ Albus—and no matter how briefly it had flown through his head, he had _still thought it_.

 

At once he felt filthy and unclean. What was _wrong_ with him?

 

"What's wrong?" Albus asked, echoing Louis' own thoughts. He frowned at the troubled expression on Louis' face.

 

"Nothing," Louis told him quickly. He sat up and drew in a deep breath. ""I just remembered, there's er, something I had to do at home. I'd better get going." He got to his feet and bolted for the door.

 

"So you've decided to go and de-gnome the garden after all, eh?" Albus called after him.

 

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, twisting the door-knob. “I'd better just get it over and done with. You know Mum'll kill me if she finds out I'm here again.” Close to hyperventilating, he departed from Albus' room, closing the door firmly behind him, and raced downstairs for the Floo.

 

He felt as though his skin was crawling with bugs, that no number of cold showers, of scrubbing himself down with soap, would wash away the thought that had just passed through his head... Looking at Albus' lips like he'd done. Wanting to _kiss_ him.

 

“Louis,” a voice said when he reached the fireplace, “I didn't know you were here.”

 

Heart thumping against his ribs, Louis spun on his heel and saw Lily watching him from the armchair by the tall French windows—her spindly legs were rested upon the armrest, a heavy book on her lap. “Leaving so soon?" She lifted a wrist to check her watch. "It's not even time for dinner yet.”

 

“I...” Louis took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. “I've got to do something at home, I... I've got to go. See you, Lil.”

 

“You alright, Lou?” Lily asked before he turned around, eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “You look a little flustered.”

 

Louis waved away her concern and threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire. The flames turned a horribly upsetting shade of emerald green. “I'm fine, Lil,” he lied, stepping into them. “Just fine.”

 

Although Louis didn't yet know it, this would be only the first of many lies he would tell in the coming months. His life, as he'd known it, was well and truly over.

 

_~Finis~_

 


End file.
